


Prompt!fics: A Miscellany

by prairiecrow



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Comfort, Darkness, Fainting, Lunch, M/M, Oral Sex, Prompt Fic, Seduction, Sex Change, Wordplay, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Responses to a series of prompts I received as the result of a request on the doctor_tailor community on LJ. Stories will be added as they are completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regency

_Prompt from jenna_marianne: Regency AU, marriage of convenience!_

*******************************************

"This is ridiculous, Mr. Garak," Julian Bashir protested from behind the tall oriental screen, managing to convey uncertainty, embarrassment and a palpable undercurrent of excitement all at the same time. "Please do not misunderstand me, I certainly appreciate your efforts on my — behalf, but…"

Garak smiled and pitched his voice to an admixture of kindness and adamant resolve. "My dear Julian, please — will you not call me plain and simple Garak, as I thought we'd agreed?"

A pause full of consternation. "Of course, Garak — forgive me, but…"

"That's quite enough 'buts' for one afternoon, thank you," Garak declared, then put a wheedling note into his tone. "Come, my dear Doctor: after all the work I've put into your gift, will you not at least let me see if it fits?"

"Oh, it fits," Julian muttered, followed by a sharp sigh. "Very well, Mist — Garak, but if you see fit to laugh…"

"You have my word that I shall do no such thing," Garak promised, and was presently rewarded by the emergence of his friend into the bedroom proper, with a most becoming blush on his dark cheeks and his hands clasped nervously in front of him. Garak rewarded him with a brilliant smile, then stepped forward and took gentle hold of the physician's hands to draw them down to his sides, allowing the royal blue fabric to flow freely down from the empire waist of the dress he had so kindly consented to wearing.

"This is ridiculous," Julian murmured, but his hazel eyes were fixed on his reflection in the mirror Garak had placed to catch his image as he emerged, and the Cardassian thought he could detect manifest pleasure in the set of those darling features along with uncertainty. 

"On the contrary," Garak said softly, and took Julian's chin in his fingers to coax the younger man to meet his gaze. "You look utterly enchanting. Tell me, do you not think that your wife would agree?"

The rose tint deepened beneath Julian's sculpted cheekbones. "She must _never_  find out!" he exclaimed with considerable feeling.

"And she never shall," Garak assured him, stepping closer, and was inordinately pleased to feel Julian's back curve pliantly as his arm slipped around it. Into that shell-like ear he whispered a vow as solemn as any he'd ever made in his long and chequered career: "You have my word, my Beauty — this shall always remain our cherished secret, a delight unknown to any save ourselves."

THE END


	2. Forked

_Prompt from honeyycomb: Garak has a forked tongue. How and why is up to your imagination._

*******************************************

"What —" Julian's breath caught in his throat and his fingers tightened in the Cardassian's silky hair hair as his brain tried to process the sensations running up and down his cock, and failed for a good three seconds. "That's — Garak, what on Earth…?"

"Mph," Garak smiled, but Julian really couldn't expect a more articulate answer: after all, his mouth was rather full at the moment, and very busy.

" _Garak!_ " More emphatic this time, and he took firmer hold of the spy's head and tugged urgently upward. "Your tongue — it's…"

"Forked," Garak agreed when he came up for air, fixing Julian with a look that managed to be both patient and impatient at the same time. "Is that a problem?"

"It's new," Julian said, hoping he didn't look half as perplexed as he felt: displaying weakness, especially when Garak's very sharp teeth were this close to his genitals, wasn't the wisest thing to do. "Would you mind telling me exactly what's going on here?"

Garak shrugged. "Hormones," he said enigmatically, and went back to licking and sucking Julian's prick with such attentive intensity that Julian's train of thought, which had immediately leaped in three different directions simultaneously in search of exactly what that might mean, quickly derailed and stayed off the tracks. It wasn't until he was returning the favour that he came to the most obvious conclusion — and his head came up and off, his eyes widening in the dimness. 

"Wait — what?" 

Garak's smile was not reassuring in the least. "I should think you'd be pleased," he said softly, running his hand through Julian's tousle of hair in a leisurely way that managed to be both fond and mildly threatening. 

"But if your estrogen levels are that far out of —"

"I'll explain everything, my dear," Garak soothed, "after you've had your wicked way with me, hmmm?" Which was the crux of the problem, of course — Julian had managed to unearth a few details about how male homosexuality was viewed in modern Cardassian culture (unfavourably), including rumours about receptive partners taking on secondary sexual characteristics like the feminine fork in the tongue, that he'd dismissed as scare tactics employed by the Cardassian State to discourage same-sex contact… 

 _Oh well,_  he thought as he went back to work:  _If they're really true, and Garak's undergoing the change, it's a little late to worry about it now… and who knows? It might even prove... intriguing, to say the least..._

THE END


	3. Chapter 3

_Prompt from leianora: Julian wakens to find himself in a darkened room lying on a soft bed with Garak sitting beside him gently running a cool cloth across his forehead and face. How did they get there? What happens next? If they are in need of rescue, who saves them and from what?_

*******************************************

It was both hot and dark — so dark that when Julian opened his eyes it did him practically no good whatsoever, enhanced though he was. He was lying on his back on a wonderfully soft bed with a fluffy pillow under his head, and someone was running a cool damp cloth gently over his forehead and his face, then down across his bare chest. In the stifling heat of the room it felt absolutely bloody marvellous.  
  
"Wh…?" was all he managed to get out before Garak replied:  
  
"I told you that your dress uniform would prove too oppressive on a Cardassian summer evening, but did you listen to me?"  
  
Memory was beginning to swim back, a shoal of glittering fish shimmering In the depths of black water. Julian tried to sit up, only to be pressed back down by an implacable hand on his shoulder: "The Minister…!"  
  
"— understands perfectly well that you come from a more temperate planet and that you were simply overcome by the heat." A sigh that suggested both affection and exasperation, and the cloth was removed, to be replaced by a sturdy arm under Julian's shoulders that propped him up so that a glass of water (cooler and even more refreshing) could be pressed to his lips. "All of which could have been avoided," Garak continued as Julian drank eagerly, "if you'd only taken my advice."  
  
"You wanted to dress me up like a Lorakian prostitute," Julian protested when he'd finished the entire glass.  
  
"I wanted to adorn you in a perfectly charming outfit of fine Andorian silk," Garak corrected him, "with a collar of ivory lace that would have complemented your golden skin tone beautifully."  
  
"It was practically transparent!"  
  
"Ah, but it also breathed, which is more than I can say for the wool your Federation uniforms are made out of."  
  
He could make out Garak's stocky silhouette now, neatly seated on the edge of the bed with not a hair out of place. Julian let himself be laid flat again and closed his eyes. "How long have I been out?"  
  
"Oh, perhaps twenty minutes."  
  
"Long enough to miss dessert, then."  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Is this the Minister's bed?"  
  
"His mistress's, I believe. Can't you smell the perfume?"  
  
"I can, actually."  
  
Garak leaned a little closer and Julian heard him draw a sharper breath. "It's absolutely permeated your hair."  
  
"Bloody hell," Julian swore, but without any real force behind it. He was still too hot to kick up much of a fuss.  
  
"You see? You could have worn the silk, since you've ended up smelling like a —"  
  
"Garak?"  
  
"— anyway… Yes, my love?"  
  
"More of that cool cloth, please, and less berating."  
  
"I don't know why I bother," Garak lamented, but Julian didn't have to see the sly smile to know that it was there.  
  
THE END


	4. Pleasure

_Prompt from yobotica: I always thought Garak might have something interesting to say about the human phrase 'a guilty pleasure' (and all the implications it brings! Oh, human psychology~). An interesting lunch conversation to say the least, yes? :3_

*******************************************

"You know, Doctor, I ran across a phrase in the last book you lent me that left me throughly puzzled."  
  
"Oh? And what would that be?"  
  
"The protagonist referred to a particular act as 'a guilty pleasure', which I found most curious."  
  
"That he found the act itself pleasurable, or worth feeling guilty about?"  
  
"The two in combination, actually. It baffles me why anyone would feel remorse over such a thing. After all, one should chose one's pleasures with great care and enjoy them to the full, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
"That's the ideal, of course, but it's not always possible. Some things are immensely pleasurable, but also inarguably bad for you."  
  
"Why, that's patently ridiculous! The whole purpose of pleasure is to guide us toward that which is beneficial and away from that which is detrimental. Otherwise your Terran rabbits would be leaping into the jaws of wolves and Chief O'Brien would be hitting himself repeatedly in the head with a spanner every chance he got."  
  
"Now you're just being contrary."  
  
"My dear Doctor, I must confess myself honestly perplexed — and there's no need to make that sort of face. Go on, give me one solid example of a pleasure which is genuinely enjoyable but also an unqualified negative in every other respect."  
  
"Well…"  
  
"You can't, can you?"  
  
"Isorian glitterdust, for one."  
  
"A drug, Doctor? And a synthesized one at that? Please! You know perfectly well I'm referring to pleasures which are natural and wholesome."  
  
"I didn't, actually, but — all right, here's one a Cardassian could surely get behind: having sex with another man's wife."  
  
"I do hope you're not speaking from personal experience."  
  
"You're evading, Garak."  
  
"Who's to say the woman in question might not find you a far better match than her present husband, genetically speaking?"  
  
"Do Cardassians make a habit of doing a full medical evaluation before jumping into bed with somebody?"  
  
"We trust our instincts, Doctor — and pleasure is possibly the most primal instinct of all, aside from pain."  
  
"So you're saying that when you see a woman you want to sleep with, you just leap at her?"  
  
"Ah, but that's where the 'choosing carefully' part comes in! Pleasure inevitably brings benefits, but also often a host of attendant risks. Everything must be weighed in the balance and tested before one moves forward. For example, having judged the individual in question to be beautiful, intelligent and witty, but also, shall we say, inconveniently attached, one might set about ascertaining if the object of one's affections is willing to bend the rules a little —"  
  
"— in the service of mutual pleasure?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"I see. And if the young lady indicates that she's interested in pursuing a better genetic match…?"  
  
"Tell me, my dear, do you have any plans for dinner this evening?"  
  
"I — what — me? Ah…"  
  
"…?"  
  
"… none, actually."  
  
"I was hoping you'd say that."  
  
"Why? You're not… planning to make me feel guilty, are you?"  
  
"Since that seems to be a lamentable Human tendency anyway — oh, yes. There's another saying current among your people, isn't there: nothing ventured, nothing gained?"  
  
"I suspect you'd be quite bad for me."  
  
"But in the best of all possible ways, I assure you. My quarters at 2200?"  
  
"All right,  _if_  you'll promise me one thing…"  
  
"If I can, certainly."  
  
"That you'll give me something worth seriously regretting in the morning — and quite possibly for the rest of my life..."  
  
THE END


End file.
